Five

“So,” I say casually to Penelope just after lunch, which is the first time in a million years that the salon is empty. We have no customers and Janet, the other hairdresser, has jetted out for a few minutes. “Has Eros ever told you how they get mates on Torvis?”

As she sweeps up a snowfall of Mrs. Harris’s fine hair from the hardwood floor, Penelope glances up at me. “Honestly, it’s never come up. He doesn’t have any intention of going back and I’d probably have a hard time prying him loose from my side anyway, so it’s kind of academic, right?” She shrugs. “I figured it was pretty similar to how we do it here.”

I’m shocked to discover I know something about her husband’s planet that she doesn’t. Also, I opened this can of worms in hopes of understanding my own husband better and the fact that this is news to her throws me. “Well, it’s not. They’re assigned. And temporary.”

Penelope’s nose wrinkles. “What? How is that a mate then?”

“It’s mating, not a mate, like till death do you part. For baby making purposes only.”

The gagging noise Penelope makes is supposed to be funny, but I can tell she’s a little taken aback by what I’m telling her. “That’s weird. Eros is so affectionate.”

Bingo.

“I know, that’s why I’m bringing it up. Ares is having a hard time understanding that I want a real marriage and I’m having a hard time explaining to him what a real marriage is. After seeing what yours is like, I kind of thought he’d come to me well versed in the subject.”

“Wow.” Penelope sweeps the last of the hair into a dustpan and dumps it in the waste bin, then leans on the broom handle. “I guess I got lucky. Eros and I are one hundred percent in a real marriage, so I guess you can bank on the fact that it is possible despite the cultural differences.”

“Okay, yeah.”

Her point makes me feel slightly better. Ares isn’t telling me flat out no. He’s just easing into the idea of doing something different than what he thought our marriage would be like. I am too. It’s not terrible. Just different. Maybe this way will make our relationship awesome.

When I get home, Ares is waiting for me. The second I clear the threshold, he pounces, pointing at the magazine. “Here is our destination.”

I glance at the page, which is an article about one of the many hot springs scattered around Washington State. The photograph features a deep pool with a particularly spectacular waterfall on the outskirts of Seattle. “You want to go to a hot springs on our date?”

It’s original, I’ll give him that. I haven’t been to one of the hot springs since I was a kid and it’s definitely something we can do together. The drive alone will take at least an hour, so there’s the added bonus of having all that time to talk.

He taps the article. “This text claims the water takes away your cares. This is what I seek.”

My heart twists painfully in my chest. “Um, maybe I should have warned you about advertising techniques. There’s no magic in the water. It’s just hot and soothing. But I’m game to try it if you still want to.”

His face falls for an instant until he catches it, smoothing out his expression. “This will be fine.”

Ugh, now I feel like crap for raining all over his parade. He thought he’d found a magic elixir to fix the yearning he feels to heal people. Not for the first time, I wonder what happens inside him, what this “drive” as he calls it, does. Is it like when I’m on the rag and crave ice cream, but only chocolate will do or I turn into a stark raving lunatic? I want to ask, but he’s been so clear that it’s a sore spot, I resist. For now.

I take Ares to dinner at a tiny family owned restaurant near my apartment which is guaranteed not to break the bank, where I ply him with spaghetti and meatballs until we are both relaxed. On the drive to the hot springs he picked, which is one of the lesser known spots, he answers my questions about what Torvis looks like—a lot like Earth shockingly, though I shouldn’t be surprised. Ares easily passes for human so it stands to reason that he would come from a similar climate.

But he goes on to describe something a lot more extreme than what I’m used to, hotter summers, colder winters, craggy landscapes and cities that are enclosed in bubbles to protect the people from the dangers of what I think would be considered similar to UV rays.

“You don’t get to spend a lot of time outside then, I would imagine,” I say and wonder how much that factored into his date night choice of visiting the hot springs.

He shakes his head. “Not without protective gear.”

That seems like a shame. I mean, I’m not an outdoorsy type by any stretch, but I like walking to work when it’s misting and gray. I would hate it if I couldn’t do that.

When we get to the springs, we only have about an hour until full dark. I pay the admission fee and loop a towel around my neck. Ares follows suit and trails me down the wooden plank path to one of the more secluded pools that I remember from the last time I came here years and years ago. It’s amazing and somewhat comforting how nothing has changed. The world spins on, aging gracefully as we live out our lives, and this spot will likely be the same a hundred years from now.

I don’t know why I’m all philosophical tonight. Maybe because Ares makes me think about things I normally don’t, like what the elements are for meaning in a relationship.

One thing I do know—some of it is rooted in the physical. Maybe not long term, but you have to start somewhere and I’m itching to dive into our chemistry a little further. Especially as I watch Ares peel out of his shirt. He reveals a mouthwatering torso and I am not ashamed when he catches me ogling him.

“You’re gorgeous,” I tell him with a shrug, thrilled there is no one else within our range of site. We have this pool to ourselves. “I like looking at you.”

This seems to fluster him for some reason and he shifts away as I likewise remove the pants and shirt I threw on over my swimsuit. His back is as interesting as his front, well defined if a little pale, which is certainly something I’m used to in a place like Washington that gets four hours of sunlight a year. Once I’m done undressing, I kick aside my clothes and put a hand on his bare shoulder, ignoring the spark that meets my fingers.

“I would like it if you looked at me too,” I tell him and guide him to turn around. “This is part of being married. Appreciating each other’s bodies.”

His gaze skitters down my form to my toes and my nipples tighten involuntarily as I take in the appreciation gathering through his expression. “Sei bello. Beautiful”

“I’m fine with the Italian honestly.” It’s sexy and makes me shiver.

“Come le stelle,” he murmurs and there’s a lot more than appreciation in his gaze all at once. “Bellezza celeste.”

Heat climbs through my core and it doesn’t even matter that I don’t know what he’s saying. I can tell from the way he’s looking at me that it’s a compliment. There’s a lot to be said for having a multi-lingual husband and I’m an instant fan of it. “This is the part where you kiss me.”

He smiles and I like that too. He doesn’t do enough of it, that’s for sure, and it transforms his face, erasing the harsh lines of his normal expression. Ares has a lived-in body full of interesting scars and nicks that remind me he comes from a military background and that he’s likely seen a lot of stuff that wouldn’t be considered pleasant. But when he smiles, I forget everything else, including my name.

With absolutely no fanfare, he leans forward and claims my lips, dropping me into a kiss of epic proportions. Hungrily, I respond, winding myself around his body and it’s only partly to keep myself upright as he blasts through my senses. Kissing him clothed is one thing but when I’ve got all this bare muscle under my fingers, the experience makes me giddy. He feels like heated marble and it’s delicious. I fan my palm across the small of his back and shamelessly explore in both directions as his tongue meets mine in a hot collision.

I want more.

Venue change. Backing up, I drag him with me, keeping as much contact between us as I can while I maneuver us into the water. We ease into the pool between urgent kisses, a shock to the system as we transition from the cool night to the hot water. It seeps into my bones, melding with the excitement of being with Ares and I have never felt such extremes before in my life.

Pushing on his pectorals, I guide him to sit down on one of the submerged rocks and climb into his lap. His arms come around me, and one firm hand holds me in place as my legs settle astride his and oh, God yes. My core aligns with the steel in his swim trunks and I go delirious with need.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure where this date would lead but he seems quite on board with a make out session. As he grinds into me with a hard circle of his hips, I start to wonder just how far he’s willing to go. Have I mentioned I’m shameless? Public nudity bothers me not at all and I reach up to untie the strings of my bikini top. I let them fall and as they peel away from my breasts, Ares watches with a hooded expression.

The cool air kisses my nipples a second before Ares bends to take one in his mouth. I gasp as he rolls my flesh along his teeth, lighting me up in a glorious burst of sensation that is heighted by the fact that his erection presses deep against my core.

So maybe he came to me well-versed in the important stuff at least. My back arches automatically in an attempt to shove more of my breast into his mouth and he complies, sucking me hard until I’m squirming against his length, begging for more. His fingers dance along my back and then slide around to the front to toy with my other breast. The dual play is more than I can bear and I whimper as stars wheel through my vision.

Ares suddenly stands, easily supporting me with a firm arm under my butt, and spins to place me on the lip of the hot springs, then kneels on the rock to spread my legs wide. This is getting better and better. His lips brush up the length of my thigh with teasing butterfly kisses that get a little more urgent the closer to my bikini bottom he gets. The last kiss is delivered square in the center of the swatch of fabric covering my already slick core.

I like the direction of his thoughts. He watches me as he slides a finger under the fabric, testing out how far I’ll let him go I guess. Impatiently, I squirm against his finger, desperate for him to slide it inside me, knowing that’s the extent of what satisfaction I’ll get tonight because I was not prepared for this. As quickly as Penelope got pregnant, I am not having sex with Ares unless there are multiple pregnancy prevention methods in place, and I didn’t even think to stuff a bunch of condoms into my pockets.

He withdraws and leans me back against the ground, then grasps the bikini bottom with both hands to draw it completely off. I let him because duh. Anyone who stumbles over us can either watch or skedaddle but I’m not missing this chance to have my alien’s mouth on me and he does not disappoint.

The first long lick of his tongue against my fevered core is so good that I bow up, back arching clear off the ground. My thighs squeeze together and he patiently spreads me again and then goes to town, Frenching me deep with his tongue until I’m gasping his name. He’s got some talent in this department, which I was not expecting, but I’ll take.

As his fingers slide in and out in tandem with his tongue, he plays with me until I’m hot and ready to come apart. Even so, the orgasm takes me by surprise. I let it roll, and he draws it out expertly until it’s so good that I’m nearly in tears. My foot slips from where I’d braced it on the rock but I scarcely notice as my bones turn to butter and I drift into another plane of existence.

Yes, he’s that good. And he’s all mine. I can scarcely credit how well this date is going. Maybe he’ll even let me reciprocate. Enlivened by the thought of getting my hands on his beautiful body and being allowed to torture him into an orgasm by the pool, I sit up.

That’s when I notice my foot is bleeding.